


Just Following Instincts

by Soul4Sale



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: 30 Kisses, ABO Universe, ABO dynamics, AU - Canon Divergent, AU - French!Scout AU, AU - Modern AU, AU - Neighbors AU, Anal, Angst, Bad Humor, Bad Puns, Boys Kissing, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Cradle Robbing, Cuddling, Depression, Flirting, Fluff, Gay, Gore, Ideologically Sensitive, Implied Character Death, Implied Smut, Jealousy, Knot Denial, Large age gap, M/M, Masturbation, Memory Loss, Mentions of Animal Cruelty, Mentions of Willful Kidnapping, Multiple Orgasms, Nightmares, Nudity, Oral, PTSD, PWP, Pre-Slash, Richie POV, Self-imposed Orgasm Denial, Slash, Slight Body Horror?, Solo!M, Voyeurism, Werewolf!Sniper, Yaoi, alcohol use, coarse language, minor gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:44:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 9,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4464221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soul4Sale/pseuds/Soul4Sale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 30 Kisses challenge for Richie (BLU Sniper)/Weylon (BLU Scout).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Please Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve started a new regimen for myself, something that will hopefully keep me writing throughout my days. This will be part of that, and should update just about every day. As for today, I’m planning on updating a _lot_ of fic, so be prepared to be bombarded, I suppose? The tags will change as more chapters are updated.

It had been six months since the last of the older boys went off for whatever part of their life was next, leaving Weylon Jones thoroughly alone in the house with his Ma and whatever man she thought would keep her company for a night. The house seemed so empty, so _lonely_ , without his brothers there, and it had caused more than its fair share of sleepless nights. Nobody was in the top bunk, there was no one to blame farts on anymore, no one to bond with over the stupid shit they said and did. Even his friends had moved on without him, while he’d been working in Teufort, and so his life had become extremely reclusive. Sure, he hadn’t wanted it to be that way, but he felt powerless for the first time since he’d joined the Builders League United. 

Three months ago, something seemed to start creeping into his window at night. It was large, fluffy, a mousy sort of brown, and if it had a face, he never saw it. Whenever it would arrive, he would already be fast asleep, only jostled enough to register something warmer than his blankets had slipped into his bed and tucked him in tight against his body.

It had started easy enough. Dreams started to pour in of a heavy, large dog that sometimes smelled like the earth and sometimes like blood cuddling him as he sobbed into its fur. As the days wore on, and their night-time rendezvous continued, however, these dreams began to plague him even during waking hours. 

Sitting across from his mother, poking at his potatoes and chicken, he was positive he saw someone outside that could have fit his nighttime visitor’s description, were he human. Walking to the park for some catch, he could have sworn that scent walked right past him, unnoticed due to the lack of fur. Everything he did soon revolved around finding that smell.

He had no idea that his walking dream would one day appear before he was asleep, and before his own form had taken on its nighttime appearance.

“‘Allo, Roo.” The older man in his window smirked, winking behind golden shades.

“U-uh…” Hand wrapping around the spongy grip of the metal bat on the other side of his bed, he found himself unable to clock this motherfucker. In fact, after getting a rather good look at him, his entire world was tipped on its side, “ _Richie?!_ ” Bat forgotten, he launched into the other’s arms; only to be hit by that thick scent that had plagued him night and day. “What’s going on?”

“Now, don’t worry yer pretty little head ‘bout it, love.” Came the whisper into his ear, as he pulled the other into a gentle kiss, “Jus’ hang on, tonight’s gonna be new fer us both.”


	2. Roughing It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 002\. Nature. Outside had never scared Weylon; he was a baseball star up until he signed up with Builders League United. But there was something about camping with Richie that made him uncertain that this was anything less than the wilderness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I’m doing good so far. oUo Doing what I’m supposed to for my list of things to do every day. Already did my warm-up, gonna do the drabble and one-shot, then maybe eat some breakfast. I will, hopefully, be able to post things as I finish them, but if not, then I’ll post them all together once I finish it all. oUo Enjoy, guys!

“Thought ya said ya loved tha outdoors, Roo.” The purr was soft in the batter’s ear, but he didn’t dare uncover more of himself for fear of exposure. Blankets wrapped around him until he was a grumpy burrito, Weylon pouted as he finally uncovered his face a little and turned fiery blue eyes on the other.

“I said ‘tha outdoors’, man, not the fuckin’ wasteland.” With an accusatory glare, he huffed and rolled back over to try and ignore the other, the elder man simply standing and shrugging. The camper was fairly clean, considering the temper tantrum it had had to contain earlier that morning, and now that the sun was rising higher in the sky, well, it was turning into a dry sauna. 

“Suit yerself, sweetling,” Richie told him, shoving his hands into his pocket, “Guess I’ll eat all the Tim Tams m’self, then.” It only took five steps from the bed to the door, but before he even made it, hands were tugging at his wrists and the boy (he hardly acted 22) tumbled out of bed in his underwear and one thigh-high sock. 

“No, man, don’t fuckin’ do that!” There was a plea in his voice that only made the elder man chuckle, shaking his head. “Fine, fine, I’ll come out. Just don’t fuckin’ eat ‘em all, okay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll save ya a couple.” Winking, he pushed the Bostonian to his knees on the floor, giving him a considering smirk, before finally waggling his eyebrows, “It’s about lunchtime, Roo. Why don’tcha get dressed and come help me with it?” Somehow, he managed to weasel out of the other’s grip, leaving the blonde with his knees pressed to the somewhat clean tile of the camper floor. Reclining back with his ass on his ankles, he considered ‘getting dressed’ before deciding on a particular outfit that guaranteed lots of sideways glances.

As predicted, the obscenely small running shorts earned him a double-take (though it might have been the almost offensively bright yellow color of them), and those eyes, trying to be sneaky beneath tinted glasses, raked over the thigh-high socks clinging to those sculpted legs. The ‘Muscle Man’ tank top only earned him a soft snort, and the switch from the usual black cap to the Red Sox one seemed to only make his mismatched clothes look that much more odd. 

“Didn’ realize it was Halloween, sweetling.” The incredulous look, coupled with a solid punch to his shoulder, was all Richie earned in response for _that_ one.

“Whaddya wanna make fer lunch?” Groused the Bostonian, crossing his arms and glaring at the large, roaring fire settled just far away from the camper to not be concerning. Sensing that he’d need to do some damage control to keep it there, the elder slid up behind the other, delivering disarming kisses to his neck and shoulders, nuzzling his nose against a spot in the middle of his shoulderblades that had the smaller gasping.

“Had been thinkin’ ‘bout some barbeque.” He mumbled against the soft spot behind Weylon’s ear, the shiver he earned pulling a smile onto his lips, “But my gut tells me I’d be wasting an opportunity if I didn’t sample some, ah…” His next words were a stretch he wasn’t sure would be appreciated, but he might as well try, “Real American beef.” Laughter on said beef’s part quickly devolved into a moan as lips fastened to that button at the connection of neck and shoulder, and he offered a smirk so thick it was apparent in his voice.

“Bad pun. But yeah,” He gulped a little thickly, trying to ignore the fire burning in his belly, “Sounds good. Don’t wanna tell yer instincts ta fuck off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have an addiction to bad puns, okay? I couldn’t possibly resist. xD At any rate, Richie likes it when Weylon laughs. It’s a bit headcanoned that he doesn’t laugh genuinely enough, so any one that Richie gets out of him is like a golden ticket.


	3. A Rose By Any Other Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 003\. Rose; They said all Scouts were the same, but Percy could never fill the hole Weylon left behind.

_Something had gone wrong. Richie knew that the second he heard sputters and coughs from the respawn room. The black smoke that permeated the air as he ran for it only confirmed his suspicions. With terror gripping his heart, he forced his way in only to find his worst fear he never knew he’d had. Weylon lay there, unmoving among fresh carcasses of sticky bombs, electricity sparking above him to prove he wasn’t coming back this time._

Sitting up with a hoarse cry on his lips, sweat shiny on his skin in the dark, the sniper panted hard, hand shooting out to the side. The warm body situated beside him was almost right; the smell was different, _he_ was different, but the thought still rang true. Percy kept sleeping Weylon in his bed. Nothing but their looks was similar, but after another nightly revisiting of the day he’d lost his precious Omega, it was comforting enough to pretend.


	4. Now Half Of Me Is Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 004\. Cemetary; The world spun on its side the day the BLU team had to dig its first grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… This is sort of a prequel to Chapter Three, I thought it fit and this was the order the prompts were in. xD More sadness, yay! Hopefully I’ll be able to write some fluffier stuff soon.

There was something, deep down, that wouldn’t let him cry. Even as the makeshift casket was lowered into the large crater Romochka had dug, there seemed to be a strange barrier between his emotions and his thoughts. In fact, it was as though he couldn’t feel anything, not even the near-identical hand gripping his. Eyes hidden behind orange tinted glasses were hard, unwavering, as they stared at the mahogany box slowly disappearing beneath the dirt being flung back over it.

“He misses you.” The voice crashed into him like a ton of bricks and he shuddered and sputtered a little like he’d taken a hit to the chest. Turning slightly, he looked at the Pyro behind him, who waved and muffled something else before leaving as suddenly as he’d come. As those words sunk in, he turned his shocked eyes on the casket once more, a single tear slipping down one cheek as he tried for a smile.

“Miss you, too, Roo.”


	5. I Love Your Apathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 005\. Apathy; Richie liked the way Weylon didn’t seem to care about anything, even if he didn’t know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it’s been a little while since I updated this, figured I might as well put up another chapter. I hope you guys enjoy! This one should be a little happier.

I sprawled out on my bed with every intention of going to sleep early that night, tipping my hat down over my eyes. Glasses beside the bed, I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger before lifting the brim of my hat, watching Weylon carelessly walk into my room, a book in one hand and a Bonk! in the other. I can feel the frown as he barely acknowledges me with a wave of his fingers, setting the can down beside my bed and crawling up overtop me. He lays on his stomach, resting his book on my chest, and pulls a bag of Skittles out of his pocket. Happily leaning his stomach against my groin, he continues to read as though he weren’t using me as a pillow.

“Uh, Roo?” I questioned, raising a brow at him. He didn’t look at me, so I snatched his hat from beneath the hood of his jacket, “Roo.”

“What is it, old man?” He sneered up at me, raising brow right back, “I’m just reading.”

“Yeah? Well, why can’t you do it somewhere else?” I asked, drowsiness evident in my voice.

“Just go ahead and sleep, I don’t care.” Leaning up slowly, as if he thought he had to, he pressed a gentle kiss to my lips, “Sleep.” 

He settled back down right and proper and I maybe blushed a little bit, finding his weight above me fairly grounding. Sleep was quick to claim me.


	6. Poisoning Pigeons In The Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 006\. A Walk In The Park; Weylon couldn’t believe the fun they were having.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided this story is going to get two updates, today, because I’m generous and in a serious writing mood. I can’t seem to stop, even though I’m sick. I hope you guys enjoy!

“Are you sure we should do this?” Weylon questioned, getting a rather bizarre grin from his lover.

“It’s fun. Plus, sometimes I like to pretend they’re Johan’s doves, and it makes me feel better when they try to nest in my chest cavity.” Came the reply, accompanied by a wink and salacious grin. “This also makes you deadly, like you always wanna be, Roo.” 

“Well… yeah, I guess so.” He offered, tossing another dried bean to the ground and watching a dumb bird peck it, before swallowing it up. Grinning, he slipped his free hand into the elder male’s, leaning his head on his shoulder as they walked. “This is actually kind of fun. Watching these idiots and knowing they’ll die.” It was odd, sure, but he couldn’t help but enjoy himself. “You sure have some weird-ass hobbies.”

“I think everyone on the team does.” Shrugging a little, the elder wrapped an arm around the Scout’s shoulder. “But I’m glad you came out with me, Roo.” Kissing his forehead, he lead them towards the fountain at the center of the park, ready to show some more birds what for.


	7. Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 007\. Housework; Weylon couldn’t seem to keep the trailer clean if he tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Here’s another chapter for you~ I hope you guys enjoy. I’m having fun with writing today, even if I don’t feel very good.

“What on _Earth_ are you wearing?” While it sounded as incredulous as he’d like, the exclamation was also laced with amusement.

“It’s called an apron and gloves. They are used for cleaning crusty old hamburgers out from under my bed.” Richie sounded disgruntled, so Weylon made his way over and hugged him from behind.

“Looks good on ya. You gonna wear these for me, later?” He questioned, waggling his eyebrows suggestively as he placed his chin on the other’s shoulder.

“If you want to fuck Johan’s gloves, sure.” Came the grunted reply as he shook his head, “No, Weylon. I’m cleaning and you’re a mess, go back to your room.”

Kissing the other’s cheek, the younger man finally sighed, “I’ll help.”

And that was how Scout was tricked into cleaning the whole RV by himself while Richie watched him, wearing little more than a frilly blue and white apron and long blue rubber gloves.


	8. That's A Lot Of Boos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 008\. Bump In the Night; Richie enjoys hearing Weylon scream, probably more than he should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I’m just racing to get these out. xD I want to get this done so I can say I accomplished something, I think. xD These are fun, though, even if they’re short. I have a lot of fun with these little exercises.

The first time he’d heard Weylon’s ‘manly war cry’, it had been an accident. He’d rounded the corner at the same time as the other, and the girlish shriek of fear was accompanied by the Scout’s hands cupping his chest. If only he’d had a camera.

After that, he tried desperately to catch the other off guard as much as possible. Be it sneaking up on him when he was getting a sandwich, or hiding beneath the bed and jumping out when he laid down for sleep that night. Of course, Weylon got his revenge full of kisses in public, which always made his elder lover blush when the other men would stare or catcall them as a joke.


	9. Lie To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 009\. Lies; Nothing good would come of this; both of them knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote these up while in Therapy on Monday. xD Just now getting them typed. Gonna get this to ten chapters today. In no time, these will be done. They’re so easy to write, I can even do them when I’m sick. xD

“I love you.” 

“I know.”

_It’s a lie._

_I know._

The conversations always left their hearts heavy. Neither of them were willing to budge to turn their relationship into something more than sex even if they didn’t want to stay where they were. It just kept going on, a vicious cycle of fucking and fighting, denying their feelings and bottling up the love they longed to give.

“I love you.”

“I know.”


	10. Wild And Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 010\. The Soul Is A Window Into The Heart; It was moments like this that made me sure I was falling in love with him. Richie POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just pounding through these! Already we’re one third of the way through them! Hopefully I can get them posted today. These are fun and I don’t have to be perfect, and I like that. Here we go~

Seeing Weylon standing in the back of the topless Jeep, whooping and hollering like he is, makes me smile more than it should. It’s fond, soft, something I would never show him, our relationship just isn’t like that. He’s bouncing, hatless so it wouldn’t fly away, and I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight. Like this, I was sure my icy old heart was defrosting. His blonde curls flow in the wind, wild and crazy and constantly in his eyes, and he’s beating on his chest, hollering as though we aren’t supposed to be being inconspicuous. He’s such an idiot, and I know that I’m falling ass over tea kettle for him. Sometimes matters of the heart don’t make any sense.


	11. Everybody's Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 011\. Foolish; Falling in love was foolish, but both men found it unavoidable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while since I updated this fic, figured I could give you guys a bone. ; u; I hope you enjoy, this was written when I was pretty tired but couldn’t sleep. I don’t know what’s wrong, I just can’t seem to stay still right now.

It was in the way they gazed at each other during meals, the way that Richie’s laser always trailed after Weylon during rounds of fighting so that he may protect the scout. Everyone had a fairly good idea of what they were doing, but it seemed the two involved had no idea what was going on beneath the surface of their “Friends With Benefits” relationship. It was the talk of the BLU base, that those two needed to stop pussyfooting around it and just admit they were in love. 

During a break, when Weylon went back to Boston to spend time with his family and Richie was in Australia to do the same, was when it finally seemed to come out. 

“I… I love ya, man.” The scout told the elder, the phone cord wrapped around his finger as he leaned against the wall, “It’s stupid, I know…” 

“It’s not stupid, Roo.” Came the soft reply, “I miss you, too. Love you.” He added the last bit quite a lot quieter, “Can’t wait to kiss you again.”

“Kiss me through the phone?” The offer sounded even more stupid that his mushy feelings. Even still, he was delighted when the other made a few kissy noises for him, and he reciprocated, unknowing that Hugo was watching him from the doorway to the kitchen. This would be an interesting night.


	12. Dinner On The Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 012\. Cooking; While on the run from Weylon’s father, even the Murder Van must stop for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one will be a companion to 13, and maybe 16. They are somewhat connected, though not really in any order. I wanted to tell the Guest that was worried that these are really short, that these are meant to be short. 500 words or less, so that I have something to work on to keep me writing when I’m having a hard time doing that. I like to write these when I can’t sleep or I can’t focus, they’re simple and easy to write. I think I’ve said this before, but here it is again.

“Whatcha doin’, Roo?” Slipping up behind the slim teen, he hooked his chin on his shoulder.

“What’s it look like?” The blond asked, head tipping to allow a kiss to his neck, “Makin’ dinner. We had enough stuff for both of us to eat tonight.”

Richie absently scratched at his jaw, realizing it probably would be a good idea to hit up a grocery store in the next town. So long as they didn’t stay in one place for too long, it wouldn’t mess too much with their Grand Plans.

“So, then, love, what’s for dinner?” He questioned, wrapping his arms a bit tighter around the other’s chest. Thinking about why they were on the run always made the paranoid assassin ore protective. Thankfully, Weylon was dealing with it well enough.

“Double decker grilled cheese and tomato soup.” The younger offered, turning his head as he stirred the soup, catching the other’s lips in a soft kiss before moving to flip the sandwich already in the pan. It wasn’t always easy cooking on the little table they shared meals on, the little burners they had not always easy to control temperature on, but it was better than a fire outside the camper. They could get caught much easier, if they went that way.

“Sounds good to me. We still have some tabasco sauce, right?” 

“We should, yeah.” Came the soft mumble as the young man leaned back against the elder’s chest, closing his eyes. The couple swayed like that for a few moments, listening to the crackling of the buttered bread as it fried. This went on until Richie had to get a place, the first of the sandwiches finished. Three more, and the couple settled into their meal, crammed into one small booth because the only time apart that was acceptable was none, apparently.


	13. First Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 013\. Snow; Richie couldn’t just let Weylon sleep through their first snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a companion fic to the last chapter, and another piece I’ve had written for a while. I’m finally getting through things I’ve needed to get typed up. Hopefully I can do that today and get it out of my head. I plan on updating this, Kisses Mean Heartbreak, and typing up Last Resort, Lucky Break, and, hopefully, Mirrors today. We’ll see how much of that gets done. xD

“Roo?” Rchie’s voice was soft as he gently thumbed his lover’s cheekbones, “Wake up.”

Weylon didn’t seem very enthused, a grumble on his lips as he frowned, his nose wrinkling a bit as he blinked awake. The little blond seemed too cute like that, and the elder leaned in to kiss him, helping him come to without too many complaints.

“Ungh… Huh…? What? Whatcha want?” He grumbled, eyes flicking to the glaring red numbers of the alarm clock; 2:15AM.

“Just thought you might want to see something.” The Australian chuckled, “Get dressed, warm.” He added, tossing a few layers and a coat onto the small bed they shared, “Meet me outside.”

Sluggishly getting ready after hearing the door to the camper bang shut behind his lover, the blond tossed his hat on for good measure and tripped into his shoes. Stumbling sleepily out into the chill night air; he gasped a little at the crunch of snow beneath his sneakers.

“First snow of the season, Roo. Thought you might like to enjoy it before we move on, later today.” Richie had an easy going smile on his lips, and the teen was lucky his face was already ruddy from the cold. Silent snowflakes fell to the ground, large and puffy-perfect, and he absently brushed some from the hood of their little getaway home. 

“Is it really that important to leave? I want to enjoy this one.” 

“You know it is. Your father is out there, somewhere, looking for us.” Sure, they both knew it was true, but it didn’t stop the pout on Weylon’s face.

“Oh, come on, now, Roo, I--” A surprised yelp left the bespectacled man as a snowball suddenly hit his face. The two men shared a long look, and when the elder dropped to gather his own ammunition, his lover took off across the unblemished snow. Of course his little rabbit was fast, but his aim wasn’t off, even for a second. This went on for the better part of an hour, before the blond’s shivering began to become worrying.

Inside, they changed into some fresh, warm clothes, and made up some hot chocolate. When Richie sat up in the driver’s seat, he got a lapful of Weylon and blankets, and the two watched the snowfall together. Weylon didn’t know when he’d fallen asleep, but he woke around eleven AM, bundled and buckled into the passenger’s seat, Richie carefully driving them through more snow.


	14. Stop Talking Gibberish Or Just Stop Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 014\. Gibberish; Richie is sure it isn’t love until something odd happens on the field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s yet another one. Should get up to fifteen today, and then to work on other things I need to get typed up. Hopefully it comes as easily as this has been. I’m really hoping so. I used Google Translate for the French, because mine is super rusty and not very good in the first place. Translation is at the very end.

They weren’t lovers. It wasn’t about love. Whatever they had, it was all physical. So, what, maybe Richie sometimes almost growled when someone would clap Weylon on the back after a good match? Maybe he cursed a little when anyone else made that stupid, freckled faced little shit grin like that. It was just annoying, right? To see him look so happy when _Richie_ had had no part in making it happen. It had nothing to do with love. They didn’t _need_ each other.

Or, maybe they did.

Through his scope, one day, he saw a not-so-well-timed rocketjump send the scout flying head-first into a rock. His heart slammed into his throat, his vision swam, and, just maybe, a bullet landed in the RED Soldier’s skull out of spite. Mercs began to drop, one by one, until he couldn’t sit still any longer.

Sometimes, being up high was _not_ in one’s best interest. It took too long getting to the Scout, who didn’t seem capable of getting up _or_ respawning, and once he was there, he had to figure the nearest place he could get him to that was safe. It ended up being a small room off the main base, and once there he dumped a canteen of water on the younger’s face. What happened next, he hadn’t been prepared for.

“ _C'est quoi ce bordel? Cela vaut mieux ne pas être pisse._ ” Poorly accented French left his lover, who sounded angry and disoriented. 

“Weylon?” The shock apparent in Richie’s voice didn’t seem to help.

“ _Putain mal à la tête. Qu'est-il arrivé?_ ” At that moment, a heavy thought weighed on Richie Harris’ mind, and a wayward tear leaked from his eye and dropped off the tip of his nose. The Respawn room would fix this. Pressing the barrel of his gun to the other’s forehead, he ignored the pleas he couldn’t understand and pulled the trigger. He didn’t know how long he cradled the limp body in his arms before a balisong ended his grief.

Maybe it _was_ love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Ending to Chapter Fourteen) And there we have it, another chapter today. ouo I’m so glad these are pumping out so easily.
> 
> C'est quoi ce bordel? Cela vaut mieux ne pas être pisse. - What the hell, man? That better not be piss.  
> Putain mal à la tête. Qu'est-il arrivé? - Head fucking hurts. What happened?


	15. Odd Hobbies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 015\. Dolls; Richie has a very weird hobby during his downtime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, now, we’re at halfway done on this fic. ouo I’m so excited to see it coming along. I do plan on getting to it more often, from here on out, so hopefully it will get done soon. My ffn profile is going to be updated with information on what I’m going to try and accomplish this year, so you guys can check it and see my progress.

“Wow, did you make _all_ of these?” Weylon asked, marveling at the small alcove meant to be a bookshelf. He had to add, quite quickly, “Kinda gay, don’t you think?”

Huffing a bit at the second statement, Richie rolled his eyes.

“Not as gay as the stacks of magazines with shirtless baseball players under _your_ bed.” Wehn the Scout looked properly shamed, he continued, “Sometimes I sew while I wait. Keeps my mind alert.”

“You make me, yet?”

The proper answer was probably ‘no’, though he knew it would be a lie. He had _tried_ to make Weylon at least six times, he just couldn’t seem to get him _right_. And he couldn’t say he had six (or more) Weylon Dolls under his bed.

“Not yet, Roo.” He told him, pecking his cheek, “Let’s go get ready for today’s match, yeah? You need to limber up.”


	16. Soaring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 016\. Flying; Weylon couldn’t help but be curious about Richie’s abilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, working on my writing goals sheet, right now. This is my drabble for the day, 500 words or less. I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Just for reference, Weylon is an English Spot/Visayan Spotted Deer Jackalope, and Richie is a Southern Boobook Owl Harpy.
> 
> If anyone wants me to do a story with these ideas/designs, let me know!

“So, you fly with those, do ya?” The Jackalope questioned, head tipping to the side as he ran a few absent fingers over his small, growing antlers. 

“What else are wings for, Roo?” The Harpy chuckled, shaking his head, “You little earthy things are always wondering what it’s like to fly.” 

“Y-Yeah? Who else’s been asking you about flying, huh?” A brilliant pink bloomed on Weylon’s cheeks as he sat up, his large rabbit-like feet carrying him to his full four-foot-five-inches easily. The antlers, still growing in, didn’t add to his ‘frightening’ appearance, like he wanted them to. They were mere nubs, at this point, showing his age for all to see.

“Oh, Roo, no need to get so jealous.” Spreading his wings and lazily stretching them, he dropped from his perch in the tree the Jackalope had been resting under and landed beside him. “Would you like to go for a ride?”

“...Yeah.” Trying to hesitate so that he didn’t sound too enthusiastic, but they both knew he was nearly thrumming with energy. The elder male hefted his young lover into his arms (with only a couple elbows to the face and mild complaining), before taking off at a run on those thin legs that looked like they might break. Taking them over a clifftop (with Weylon screaming the whole way), after a few seconds to savor the screams of terror, they began to glide on the wind. With the feeling of the crisp air blowing his blue and blond hair about, the Jackalope found an odd sense of freedom in this act. Looking up, he smiled slightly at the blissed out look on the other’s face as he navigated them above their home.


	17. Melt On Your Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 017\. Drained; Weylon could hardly stand the touch of the bed beneath him, but his bones had been turned to jelly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it’s been a while since I updated this, and I was thinking it’s about time. xD I have this issue, as of late, with writing, but I think working on these little things will help. Hope you guys enjoy!

“Mn… N-no more..” Weylon whimpered, failing to get his arm down to push Richie’s face away from his groin. His eyelids rest heavily over his eyes, the mere motion to try and lift them only going so far as to raise the blond’s eyebrows. Another little choked cry was dragged from his already raw throat and his hips gave the barest of twitches as he gave up the next few spurts of cum his body was capable of cultivating. The Sniper had been at it for hours, already, giving the Scout everything he wanted except for his knot. Poor thing had begged and pleaded the moment he realized that he was in trouble for flirting with the team’s Engineer, his hands clasped in cuffs and bound to the elder male’s bedposts. After a while, his arms had turned to jelly and the elder man figured that they couldn’t push him away if they tried, so he’d let the cuffs loose and, as expected, Weylon was nothing but a puddle of moaning goo.

Richie, of course, was enjoying the writhing, lithe young man before him, barely capable of speecplayinh and any movement more complex than breathing. It took more coaxing than usual to get his cock hard, but the elder man’s rough fingers and lazy tongue managed to get his prick throbbing again with little difficulty. While he swallowed down to the root, green eyes focused up at the other’s face, jaw popped open and eyes shut, intelligible, garbled speech leaving him on each breath. Perhaps it was time to give the poor little Omega what he wanted. After all, it wasn’t like Jake was going to try and bed Weylon, certainly not after the little blond smelled so much like Richie… And it seemed his whining little bitch was ready for his last go. Pulling back with an obscenely wet and sticky _pop_ , he licked and smacked his lips a few times before swallowing thickly and smirking up at the boy who had since gone limp on his bed. 

“Whaddya think, Roo? Can you handle me inside that tight little hole of yours? Or do ya think we should save it for when you aren’t so sensitive?” As if to test this particular fact, he drug two fingers across a flat chest, the pad of his thumb digging into the runner’s already swollen and puffy nipples, making him whine and shift slightly. Nothing more happened, though, even as he moved to the other, drawing up the skinny body of his lover and licking a stripe into the tanned skin. “Roo? C’mon, stay with me.”

“Mn… F-fuck, man, I…” If Weylon was honest, he wanted that knot more than he was willing to admit to, but his eyelids were so heavy he couldn’t have pried them open with a crowbar, and his body felt like it was boneless. His toes couldn’t curl anymore, his hands were resting half-curled by his ears, and when those devilishly grinning lips found his mouth, he responded with the slightest pooching of his lips. 

“You _what_ , Roo?” He questioned, teasing the other’s over-sensitized lower half with his own erection, getting a little squeak out of his lover.

“I w-want it.” He managed begrudgingly, managing to crack his eyes open enough to offer a glare that clearly was way less venomous than he’d wanted, “I want your knot.” He added, knowing his elder lover had a thing for specifics.

Before he had a chance to pour his heart into his glower, however, the stinging pressure of the Sniper’s cock pushing inside of him stopped all complaints with a low, crooning moan. Richie could tell they were both already pretty close, the throbbing of the hot, wet cage clamped around him an indicator, just as much as the way his prick met each one with an equal pump of pre. Settling in over the Scout, he smirked a little, kissing his cheek and gripping his shoulders. It only took seven powerful thrusts, right on point, to send the younger over the edge again, his cry hoarse and incomplete as it died in his throat, choked out by another squeak when his lover spilled his seed inside. 

Collapsing on top of the oversensitized boy was probably a bad idea, but he needed to catch his breath, even as he jerked his hips a few more times to get his knot ready to plug the other up for a while. It took him a moment, but he figured it was a better idea that he was on bottom, so he rolled them as quickly as he could, ignoring any complaints. Taking the other’s hips in his hands, and earning another whine and jerk, he rocked his own hips a few times, working the smaller open before finally locking into place.

“Yer a jerk.” Weylon mumbled sleepily into the other’s neck, “If I wa’n’t so tired… I’d club ya one.” 

“Sure you would, Roo.” He whispered back, petting the other’s head, “Sleep, now, you’ll need it.” The Scout didn’t need to be told twice.


	18. Watching You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 018\. Invisible; If Weylon knew what Richie was up to, he’d probably get a bat to the head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, already! I’ve got food, tea, and a good friend watching me write. ouo I’m pretty glad that I can finally get stuff written again, and it’s porn, of course. xD

If Weylon knew what Richie was up to, he’d probably get a bat to the head.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from peering through the scope of his rifle, locating his neighbor’s kid’s bedroom and licking his lips. Already, the boy was stripping down, baring that sinewy back, the firm globes of his ass, and all for the elder man’s eyes only. He found himself absently reaching for his coffee as he watched, delighting in every inch of bared flesh, his breathing picking up as one of those hands slipped around to give himself a firm smack.

“Dirty little thing, aren’tcha, Weylon?” The Sniper chuckled a little, palming himself through his pants, wiggling just a little. 

Those fingers delved inside those tight glutes and found something that made the boy’s back arch, and the older man gave a soft moan at the thought of the no-doubt beautiful gasp he’d hear if he was in the room with him. Having to adjust slightly so that he could follow the nineteen year old’s slow trek to his bed, he sucked in a deep breath and gulped slightly, mouth falling open. Weylon was a sight for sore eyes, leaving Richie’s throat tight and mouth dry as he laid down on his stomach, lifting his hips and prying himself apart. Like usual, he used the supposedly secret bottle of lube sparingly, a few drops of the viscous liquid applied before it was capped and tossed across the bed, carelessly. 

“C’mon, Roo. Gimme a good show, today.” The Australian murmured, more to himself than the young man across the complex, finally pulling his cock free of its confinement and grinning. Oh, Weylon Jones _never_ disappointed. Even with minimal lubrication, the boy managed to get the bulk of his hand inside, which only fed the elder man’s fantasies until they were fat and happy.

“Bet you could take all of me in one go, couldn’t you?” Richie had the best view, certainly, but the soundtrack left something to be desired. It was like watching the television on mute; he just wished he could hear those panted cries and breathless moans, the ones he so obviously was making with every twist of his wrist. “That mouth of yours’ just as slutty as your ass, huh?” Now, his own hips were pumping into his hand as he kept the rifle balanced with his other one, hunching forward as his labored breathing kicked up a notch. _Damn_ , Weylon shouldn’t have looked so good spread out for him like that, even if he had no idea he was being watched. His mouth was running a thousand miles an hour, not that that was all that different than usual, but whatever he was saying, Richie couldn’t pick it out. He’d like to think, though, that he was begging for it, gagging on his desire and pleading to get fucked into the mattress. It was unlikely, sure, but he wanted it so bad he could hear that Boston accented voice in his mind, whining and barely intelligible as he tried to earn what was good for him.

His own hand was moving too fast, now, and his eyesight wavered as his head fell against the side of his gun, panting heavily as he fought to watch the boy finish off. A wayward press of skin to cold metal found the weapon (safety on, thankfully) on the floor and his view obstructed by too much space between them, but he still managed to catch the other’s body going stiff and then flagging as he collapsed to his bed, slowly pulling his hands from his body even as he twitched a little. It was the look over his shoulder like he knew what was happening that set Richie off, of course, leaving the Australian coming with a hitched breath and trying to aim it away from the dark metal of his gun. With a panted chuckle, he finally glanced back up to find the nude young man he’d been watching holding a sign with dark, bold letters on it. Adjusting his glasses and pulling his rifle back into his arms to read it, he found his cheeks darkening as his eyes scanned the words.

_Hey, pervert!  
If you’re going to watch me do this every day, least you could do is come help. Ma gets home at 8.  
Weylon Jones_

Well, how could he say ‘no’ to such an invitation? He’d never gotten dressed so quickly in his life.


	19. Universal Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 019\. The Language Of Love; Weylon didn’t need to speak for Richie to know what he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… Here’s the third smutshot in a row. xD And the next one will probably be one, too. I guess I wanted to write more smut than I thought I did. These are so fun and easy to get through, though, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stop. xD Though I want to save the last ten, so I intend to work on other things, soon. Just going to get to twenty, today.
> 
> As a note about this particular part, Weylon was raised by Spy (Luka) in France, so French is his first language, and he doesn’t speak English very well.

It was a popular idea that the language of love was French. It sounded so dreamy, it rolled off the tongue so easily, and it had most women’s thighs quaking in mere seconds if used properly.

To be honest, Richie Harris didn’t share this thought. In fact, French was rapidly becoming his least favorite language. This cute little thing he’d found skulking around a club, all lean muscle and freckles and blonde hair and impossibly blue-green eyes, only seemed to speak the language, and with the Australian’s only other language being Spanish, well, they were getting nowhere fast. It wasn’t until the pretty creature found his way into his lap that he realized he wasn’t the only one invested in seeing how well they could communicate in a more private setting. 

Back to a room that was probably far more shady than what he’d usually concede to, the non-native man found his hands guiding and toying with the younger man’s body to move to the beat around them, shaking the walls like he shook his hips. The push and pull of their bodies turned to a frenzy, long, wavy blond hair falling down to the younger’s shoulder blades as his head tipped back, a moan on his lips so beautiful it was stunning. Clothes fell away as though melted away by a dream, both men nude before either could keep track of where they went, and as soon as that thin chest was exposed, the elder man’s lips surged across all of that tan skin, licking and sucking at small pink nipples, not leaving one for the other until it was swollen, wet and puffy from his abuses. The little whines and desperate, soft pleas that left the boy were understood easily enough, and before long, the two were joined in the most intimate way either could think of.

Praise in French sounded almost perfect when Weylon was the one delivering it, and it was enough to curl both of their toes, even if Richie was lost on what he was actually saying. It was the scream, though, the accented version of his name leaving the teen’s lips, that did it for him, a loud moan of the younger’s name as he pumped him full of cum. Hazy eyes focused on the arch of that back, and the words dropped from his lips before he had a chance to stop them.

“You were fantastic, Roo.” He whispered, kissing down his spine as low as he could. Whatever the Frenchman said, he had no idea, but he figured it was good by his tone. At least he could still read his body, and it seemed to be begging for a round two.


	20. Je Ne Sais Quoi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 020\. A Certain “Je Ne Sais Quoi”/“I don’t know what”; Technically speaking, it was probably against the rules to really snipe David, but he could at least leave a bullet in his ass for looking at Weylon for too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! 8D This should be the last chapter of this for the day, but I’m excited to get this story updated again. Hopefully, I can get some more of these done at Therapy on Monday. Hopefully all five, if I really focus and write. If nothing else, though, I hope you guys have enjoyed this big dump-o-chapters today! The next story you can expect for me to work on today is Kisses Mean   
> Heartbreak (A Mad Max story), and then a couple others. ^^ If I get all of that done, I might work on something new. ouo Anyway, hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> BLU Team For reference:  
> Richard “Richie” Harris - Sniper  
> Weylon Jones - Scout  
> David Gorim - Demoman  
> Johan Amsel - Medic  
> Romochka Utkin - Heavy  
> Damon Wayne - Soldier  
> Luka Bissette - Spy  
> Jake Miles - Engineer  
> Benjamin Loon - Pyro

“He’s just… So…” Maybe it was the whiskey, maybe it was his own lack of completely descriptive vocabulary, but Richie’s best explanation seemed to be an odd hand gesture in a small circle before he made grabby hands as though squeezing something.

“Aye, he’s got an ass that just begs to be worshipped.” David grinned so broad he may as well have sliced his eyepatch off, hands making grandiose circles in the air before he playfully rolled his hips. “I’d give him a reason to scream, damn straight.” 

This caused the Australian to frown at his Scottish friend, eyes narrowing a little.

“He does, yeah, but lay off.” More curt than usual, the Sniper scoffed a little, glancing across the rec room to watch Weylon carelessly swinging the pool cue about himself with a blindfold on, much to the amusement of Johan and Romochka. The Medic snickered behind his gloved hand, while the Heavy just laughed loud and noisily like usual.

“Not like he’s yours, lad. You never claimed him.” That was probably the worst thing he could have said, because the next thing the Scotsman knew, his good eye was swollen shut and he’d had to be escorted to the Medbay to get it iced. 

A few days later, he ended up returning with a bullet in one asscheek and a boot print on the other, a proud Sniper sitting through his lecture about ‘friendly fire’ from Damon with Weylon sitting, pretty and marked, in his lap.


	21. I Need Attention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 021\. An Ungodly Hour; What is it with Americans and not understanding time zones?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been sitting on these for a bit, now. I have all ten chapters handwritten, I just need to get them typed up and this story will be complete. ouo I’m typing these while I prepare to clean the house some more, so if they’re slow on the upload, I’m sorry. But we need to figure out our house and get things moved around again. xD So, anyway, here’s the story.

The grating ring of his telephone brought Richie Harris out of a cmofortable dream, blinking to see the only light on was the glaring red numbers of his alarm clock. 3 AM. Who in their right mind would ring him so early during his time off?

“Hello?” Voice gruff from sleep, he barely kept the anger out of his tone.

“Finally! Do you know how fucking stupid the long-distance phone bullshit is?” A short pause, and then, “Are you up?”

Hearing that voice under any other circumstances would have brought a smile to his face, but right now he would have given anything to ring his cute little neck.

“You know it’s 3 AM here, right, Roo?” This time, his annoyance was obvious, “I _wasn’t_ up, no.”

“But… I’m lonely.”

“With all of your family?” Scrubbing his eyes, the elder man sighed.

“They’re all busy.” Richie could hear the pout in the other’s voice, and it only made him huff.

“You can talk, love, but I’ll probably fall back asleep.” He warned, though he was certain Weylon wouldn’t mind. After all, the boy lived to hear himelf talk. Even at 8 AM, when Richie woke back up and found the other still jabbering away.

“Roo, love. Go to bed.” The Australian groused, rubbing at his neck, “You’ve been talking too much again.”

A yawn on the other end was followed by a quick, “It’s only 4 PM. Anyway, at least _I_ didn’t fall asleep on you.”

“Roo, get some rest. You’ve talked for five hours straight, your jaw needs some rest after flapping all morning.” Now, his voice was commanding, “Don’t make me fly out to Boston just to spank your naughty ass and put you to bed.”

“Dammit, Rich.” The whine wasn’t as annoying this time, considering it was borderline aroused, only bringing a smirk to the elder’s face.

“Night, Wey.”

“Night, asshole.” The dial tone was all he heard after that.


	22. Endearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 022\. Laughter; Weylon’s laughter was just like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are into seeing this story to the end, because I’ve got it all hand-written, just needing to get it typed up. Ouo I plan on posting these as I get them typed up, so hopefully I can get something done on this today.

At first, Richie had thought that Weylon’s laugh couldn’t have been more obnoxious. Loud, brash, sometimes sounding akin to a donkey’s braying… Every time he heard it, those first few months, he grimaced, hoping that it would end soon.

Over time, though, it just seemed to really exemplify his personality.

Loud like everything he did. He couldn’t make a sandvich without whooping or hollering. During their matches, he was always yelling, hyperactive, bouncing from place to place. Even in bed, he was impossibly loud. It was all fairly endearing, really, when he thought about it.

Brash, because that word fit Weylon like a glove, along with irreverent, self-assertive, and overbearing. The Scout always said what was on his mind, as though the consequences weren’t real to him. It was trouble, but Richie was a man that courted danger.

The whole ‘donkey laugh’ thing eventually grew on him. It was just as much a part of Weylon as his goofy smiles and athletic body.

Now, every time he heard it, he smiled, soft and fond. What was this kid doing to him?


	23. Caught In The Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 023\. Come What May; When Weylon’s father catches Richie and Weylon together, there’s only one answer that seems right to the Australian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I’ve really been sitting on these chapters for too long if I can’t remember what they’re about until I get to reading/typing them. xD I’ve had them done since like, January, I think. Anyway, that’ll get this story done a little faster. ouo I hope you guys enjoy!

“Richie?” Weylon sat up, a moan on his lips as he found his body didn’t want to go more than halfway, “Did you hear that?” The elder man pulled off the younger’s cock wit an obscene pop, shaking his head.

“It’s probably nothing, Roo.” His words calmed the teen enough to let a large hand push him back down. A low moan left him as the torture continued lower, his lover’s tongue pressing flat against his quivering entrance. One leg shifted over Richie’s shoulder, and he pressed his stubbled cheek to that shaking thigh, making the other croon as he nuzzled his way back up to slrp up the other’s weeping length once more. Everything seemed normal until the sound of banging could be heard on the flimsy entrance to the busted, old RV.

“Fuck, who the Hell--” Weylon began, trying to get back upright and getting eased right back down without much of a fight.

“Calm your tits, Trigger. It’s nothing.” Even still, he was nice enough to push up and take a peek out the window, “Shit.”

“Officer Harris?”That French accented voice left both of their blood slowing to a crawl in their veins, “Are you in there? I’m looing for my son A little birdie told me he was with you after some prank he pulled.”

“Uh…” Calling from the pull-out bed, then rising from between the other’s legs, he rushed to tug on a shirt to hide just how much eating Weylon alive had affected him, “Yeah, I had him before, but he’s gone, now.” Of course, it was a bold-faced lie, Weylon was, in fact, still hard and wiggling about in his bed, making those desperate little whines he did when he was too amped up to function.

“Your neighbors say differently.. I want to see my son.” That tone left no room for argument, and there was little they could do to hide what they’d been doing. Weylon’s pants found their way back around his hips, and Richie did his best to pop in a mint and wipe his face.

“Hey, Pops.” Weylon finally greeted with a lame wave as the thin metal door banged open against the side of the RV, “Whatcha need?”

“Come here.” Pointing to the spot right before him, the Frenchman looked cross and self-righteous with a cigarette between his lips. Shyly, his son slunk over, only to get backhanded, knees shaking from the reserve power it took to keep standing.

“ _Flavien_ , I--” The Australian began, eyes wide, “I’ll have to take you--”

“Take _yourself_ in, mon ami.” The word dripped venom, “You’re the one sleeping with my son!”

“He’s legal!” Of _course_ that was the first thing out of his mouth, “And consenting.”

“He’s _nineteen_ , you’re far too old for him!”

“Papa, don’t I get a say in--” Weylon seemed so tame, now, so unlike himself.

“No!” Flavien Sauveterre growled, gripping his son’s arm hard enough to bruise and dragging him to his red Renault Clio. Opening the door and haphazardly tossing his son into the back seat, he left the policeman with a glare and curt goodbye.

“You are _grounded_ , Weylon.” The elder snarled, glancing back at his son through the rear view mirror, “No phone, no television, no going out, no baseball. You will be in your room unless called for meals, or using the restroom.” 

“Y-yes, Papa” For once, the blond sounded submissive and maybe a little forlorn. It brought a smirk to his father’s lips, and as he drove them to Weylon’s mother’s house, he made sure to reiterate how much this upset him.

Once home, the nineteen year old was hauled off to his room and locked in, left with a bell to ring if he needed to use the bathroom. With a heavy sigh that bordered on a growl of displeasure, he threw himself onto his bed, grumbling and hiding his face in his pillows as it all sunk in. Tears dripped down his cheeks, leaving the pillowcase salty and soaked by the time he fell asleep. 

It wasn’t until sometime after midnight that he was roused again, pushing his hair carefully out of his face. The little chick of something hitting his window drew his eyes from the cold dinner on his desk. Rising slowly and peering out the window, he gasped at what he saw.

Richie stood on the front sidewalk, wearing a black jacket and dark jeans, shaking the keys to his van. 

“C’mon down, Roo. Let’s go.” He hissed trying to stay quiet.

“The door’s locked!” Weylon whisper-yelled back, practically leaning out the open window. Before either man could get another word out, he fell from the windowsill and tumbled down the rooftop above the livingroom. It left him falling five feet with a shriek, landing on top of the Australian. The light went on above them and the two stunned men didn’t have time to organize, scrambling to their feet and sprinting to the RV as best they could. Climbing in before Flavien and Elizabeth could catch them, they sped off, Richie reaching over to hold his lover’s hand.

“You’re gonna be safe, now, Roo No more bruises unless you want them.” Richie smiled sweetly, winking over at him behind his aviator shades.

“I just hope dad doesn’t kill us” Weylon conceded with a little sigh, resting back into the uncomfortable leather seat, eyelids sliding shut and body going limp.

“Yeah, me, too.”


	24. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 024\. Paint It Black; Weylon isn’t allowed out alone, not wearing something like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I’m kind of impressed with myself, getting three of these puppies done. I’ve been waiting for a strong enough desire to fool with getting these typed up for months. I still can’t believe I didn’t write anything in April. Dx Even still, it seems I got my writing bug back, and I intend on writing as much as I possibly can while I’ve got it. Hopefully, with any luck, I can get this story finished. ouo That would get a lot off my mind.

“What the _Hell_ do you think you’re wearing.” It came out more a statement than a question, which only made the blonde grin back at him.

“I’m going to a concert. I’m dressed for it.” Weylon’s voice was laced with poisoned honey, as he absently fingered the precise slits in his black band shirt. It barely consisted of enough fabric anymore to be called a shirt, let alone anything more skimpy. Richie wondered vaguely why the other thought he’d be let out in scraps of cloth. And don’t get him _started_ on the black eye makeup and nails.

“Go change.” The Australian spoke plainly, voice a tad deadpan as he folded his newspaper and set it down, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat.

“No. I like this outfit.” Always a ball of energy, Weylon stuck his tongue out only to be drug closer to hi lover by a strong arm around his waist.

“I _said_ go change, Trigger.” Richie growled out, nose pressed to dual-toned locks, blond melting with blue beneath his watchful gaze. “I don’t need you getting molested. You’re _mine_.”

“I’ll be fine, promise” He chuckled in response, “You _could_ come with me, though. I have two tickets.” Whipping them out of his tight pockets was quite the squeeze and took a bit of wiggling before he flashed them in front of his lover’s eyes. 

“Three Days Grace?” Richie furrowed his brow, “What’s the catch?”

“The catch is I get to dress you.” And that meant black, lots of it.

When he was finally finished, the younger stepped back with a low whistle on his lips.

“Damn, Rich, you look good in black.” The blush on the younger’s face confirmed his feelings, and the elder male offered a shy smile in return, tugging the dark muscle shirt down a little tighter over his belly. He felt ridiculous, but from his lover’s description of the band and crowd they attracted, maybe he wouldn’t look too out of place.


	25. Three Simple Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 025\. “When in doubt, read the book.”; Richie finds himself going to the strangest place for advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, hopefully I can get this one up before I need a nap. I’ll probably stop here for tonight and just let these chapters stew while I sleep. Either way, I’m pretty happy with these so far, really liking how it’s all coming out. Addressing the people who keep telling me how short these are, well, they’re meant to be. Again, these are drabbles, which, my understanding of them, are to be five hundred words or less. Now, some of these have gone over (cough23cough), but I’m not really going to adjust it. At this point, these are just some little cute things to keep me active. I might pick up another group of 30 prompts for these two, mainly because of how fun they are to write. I don’t feel like I’m stressed to write them, they flow fairly easily for me. Anyway, that’s enough of me blabbering. xD Let’s get on to the story.

There were times when Richie elt he and Weylon were incompatible. Especially when the Scout called him ‘old’ whenever they fought. It was with these thoughts heavy on his mind that he found himself at Luka’s smoking room door, knocking hesitantly.

“Yes? What is it?” The Spy called from his chair, smoke curling from his parted lips.

“Uh… It’s me. I need some, um, some advice.” Scratching at his scruffy chin, he considered bolting before the other reached the door, but it was too late. It creaked open to reveal a surprised spy just staring at him, pale brown eyes wide in shock.

“ _You_ need _my_ advice.” It was more a statement than a question, “About what?”

“Uh… Weylon and I.” Sheepishly glancing away, Richie yelped when he was grabbed by the arm and yanked inside the warm room, the door clicking shut behind him.

“Have you told him?” The Spy questioned,, walking to his chair and settling in with an indifferent expression.

“T-told him?” Told him what?” His nervous laugh gave the Sniper’s real intentions away. Maybe he hadn’t even admitted it to himself.

“That you love him.” Brown eyes narrowed and he took a deep pull from his cigarette, as though that might stem the potential headache this would cause.

Stammering and shifting from foot to foot for a moment, the Sniper felt his cheeks grow hot and a little itchy, all the way up to his ears.

“No, I haven’t.”

“But you _do_. You need to tell him. It should straighten things out.” Lifting his glass of liquid amber to his lips, he sipped almost daintily before smiling, “Lay all your cards on the table, and he should be able to let you know what needs to be done, next.”

These words seemed to stun Richie, because between one blink and the next, he stood before the scout’s door. This would be interesting, to say the least, enlightening maybe and painful probably. Knocking, he waited impatiently for the sleepy voice of the apparently napping Weylon to answer him.

“Yeah?” Voice husky and gruff from sleep, Weylon raised his head slightly.

“Roo, I…” Pressing his forehead to the door, Richie sighed, “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Came the almost too-soft reply before the teen was snoring again.

Wow. He hadn’t expected that at all. Now, just to hear it when the nineteen year old was conscious.


	26. Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beholder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 026\. Reflection(s) In The Mirror; In which Richie finds out that Weylon doesn’t much care for traditional views on how a man should look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I guess I just can’t sleep. I tried, but it just didn’t work. xD Who knows, maybe I’ll feel better after I finish this one, or all five that I have left. I lit some candles and incense, and hopefully that will help lull me to sleep. xD We’ll see. If not, hey, you guys get more story. 
> 
> Just a little reminder, if you guys want to see any of these turned into a serious fic or one-shot, just let me know! The Runaway AU is already getting its own story plotted out, and I intend to get it up sometime this year. ouo
> 
> Anyway, on to the story!

Richie sighed, watching the Scout as he poked and prodded at the large slit down the left side of his upper lip.

“It’ll never heal if you keep picking at it like that.” He finally spoke, reclining back against the wall behind his bed.

“I want it to scar, though.” Weylon replied nonchalantly, finally picking the scab until it bled. Again.

“Why the hell would you _want_ to have a scar like that?” Groused the elder, huffing indignantly, “You look like--”

“I _look_ like a freakin’ Bond villain, and that is _really_ fucking awesome!” Replied the blond, who flexed in front of the mirror before giving his best villainous cackle. He ended up choking on some of his own blood, however, and ended up gasping and coughing as he clung to the full-size mirror instead.

“Your evil laugh could use some work, Trigger.” Richie chuckled, soon after getting tackled by a still-bleeding Weylong. “Ah, gross, you’re bleeding all over me!”

“It’s my evil plan~” The smaller grinned, leaning in to kiss the other, successful for but a second before he was shoved off the bed and onto his ass.

“Go get cleaned up, then I’ll kiss you.”

“Party pooper.” Even still, the Scout did as he was asked, because it _was_ starting to hurt and his shirt was positively ruined.

If nothing else, Richie had to admit that Weylon looked damn good with the front of his shirt drenched in blood. Head wounds always did produce an awful lot of the stuff.


	27. Peel Away The Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 027\. Onions and Oranges; Everyone thought Weylon was a ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of guy. Richie knew differently, however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, just kind of slamming through these this morning. This one will be especially short, and yes, I know that it is. xD It’s more of a musing piece, I suppose. Still, I like this one, so I hope you guys do, too.

On the outside, Weylon Jones wa slike an onion. Sharp, biting, liable to leave you in a fit of tears. He was born with a chip on his shoulder, always lashing out at even the least threatening person or object in the room. He had to prove he was tougher than a man twice his size, even when nobody asked for it in the first place. People called him rotten, spoilt, vile, unnecessarily cruel.

But Richie had always known better.

Beneath his bitter mask lay a sweet, succulent flesh, waiting to be devoured. Carefully, the Sniper picked away at the blond’s walls until there was nothing but his real self left. The _real_ Weylon is all of these things and none of them at the same time. He’s needy and clingy, but independent as a cat can be. He could be sweet as pie or as heartless as any villain. He is an onion and an orange; unappetizing and wonderfully flavorful in the same bite.


	28. Hippy Dippy Bullshit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 028\. Candlelight Vigil; Richie had been mining that mountain for a few months now, but for once, they needed to behave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, again! Back to working on this fic, I only have three chapters left (counting this one), and then I think I’ll take a break and game for a bit. No idea what I’ll play, yet. I also have some more things that I need to clean, working on doing the kitchen today. It’s been pretty hectic over here, with all the cleaning going on, but I’m glad to still be able to push out some writing. After having not done it for a month, I’m pretty happy with what I have. If nothing else, expect some chapters and things that I have written down, after this I have about sixteen more pieces to type (including chapters for this, a new story, and Dark Paradise), so I plan on getting things typed up soon. Ouo Here’s the next chapter, without further dribble from me.

This kind of thing wasn’t really Weylon’s usual shindig. In fact, the only reason he went to those stupid ‘save the rainforest’ rallies in the first place had been to get some easy pussy. He’d ended up with something he hadn’t expected, a man more than twice his age willing to put out _and_ put up with him.

Richie Harris was an odd duck among these people. He drank a little, but never touched the drugs passed around. Sex, though, that was still right up his ally. The cute, clueless blond he’d met at a rally months ago did things for and to him that he’d never thought possible. If he were honest, though, he couldn’t have been happier with their relationship.

But seeing Weylon dressed in a torn denim jacket and obscenely small shorts for a candlelight vigil to save a local park’s trees didn’t seem right. It was a safe bet to say that as a kid, and even now, he was more of an eco-terrorist than an ally to planet Earth, but something about him stomping around made it kind of cute. On any other night, Richie knew he’d already have their mouths together, but this was actually important.

Weylon finally sat in his lap, watching the flickering candles in slight awe. He hadn’t expected a turnout like this. Maybe he could learn to care, if some trees meant so much to so many people.


	29. Making An Ass Out Of U And Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 029\. Assumptions; Weylon wished that he had said something sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I’m flying through these. I’m super stoked for the end of this, I’ll be able to finally say I finished a long story, even if most chapters are small. xD I’m super proud, either way, that I finally have something long finished. Anyway, here we go!

Going into this, Weylon knew it was just about the sex. Richie was at the age that he was too lonely without a proper partner, so casual sex with a familiar face eased his ache. That was the fine, there didn’t need to be anything else. Having assumed feelings were not involved made learning to turn tricks so much easier.

And, maybe, at first, that had been all the Sniper had wanted. Weylon showed off his scrawny ass all the time, he was loud and irritating, sure, but spread out, elevated and covered in hickeys, well, he looked pretty perfect. Even Richie was convinced that he didn’t feel anything for the boy, he couldn’t, he was so damn _young_.

The only problem was that both men’s assumptions eventually were wrong. 

Feelings had been involved from the start, even if neither of them knew it. And the scout realized it a bit too late. Holding Richie’s hand, he sighed. It was so odd to see the other covered in patches and tubes and wires… Weylon was allowed some time with him before the plug was pulled, and it took everything in him not to cry as he spoke.

“Richie, man, I… I’m so sorry. This whole thing is my fault. If I wasn’t so damn stupid--” The nurse came in, seemingly deaf to his babble, and began to take the Australian off of life support.Weylon spent so long yelling at her to stop that he missed his lover’s (it was so late for that word) last breath. Tears streaming down his cheeks, he whispered to the limp hand he still held, “I love you, Richie.”


	30. Ignorance Is Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 030\. Ignorance Is Bliss; Richie would do anything for Weylon, even this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. This is it, the last chapter of this. I started it in July of last year (2015), and I’m about two months from it taking a year to finish. It would have been less had I posted these when I had them written in January, but what can you do, right? Anyway, here’s to this fic. I hope you guys are looking forward to more with these two. ouo

Maybe it was better this way.

_You need to stop tormenting yourself, Rich._

Popping another Tic-Tac into his mouth, the Autralian sighed. Maybe Johan was right.

Every day, he would walk the same path he and Weylon used to walk to his Ma’s flower shop, but it was different, now. Instead of walking _with_ his lover, he made his way to see him, so very not himself. He smiled and chatted, walked and helped his mother, but… He just wasn’t _Weylon_ anymore.

What was worse was that he couldn’t remember who Richie was. The accident had erased everything they had built. It took everything he had to keep from trying to start over, Weylon’s parents forbade him from spending a lot of time around their son, which only made him crave his old flame more.

Maybe they blamed the older man for their son’s memory loss. He sure did. If he would have just drove Weylon home after their argument, he wouldn’t have gotten hit. 

Seeing that smile spurred him across the street before he could stop himself, and between one blink and the next, he was cupping Weylon’s cheeks and kissing his forehead.

_This is it. This is the last time._

“What’s your problem, man?!” The nineteen year old jumped away with a frown, looking like he might be burnt from the other’s lips.

“Nothin’, Trigger.” Richie replied, content to be forlorn as he turned and jogged back across the street, not caring to look both ways. The last thing he heard was Weylon’s voice screaming ‘no’ before the impact knocked his mind from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like something sad to end the whole thing on, right? xD Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this, I know I sure did. Ouo Hope to hear from you, and see you in my next piece!

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I’m having way too much fun with AUs and stuff, lately. I hope you guys enjoyed! See you again with this series tomorrow~


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